


Tightrope

by TwoSpoonsOfSugar



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood and Violence, Brotherhood, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Kidnapping, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoSpoonsOfSugar/pseuds/TwoSpoonsOfSugar
Summary: Aibhlinn O'Dwyer is an acrobatic performer, traveling through Northern California in an attempt to find her place in the world. Feeling lost after a horrific accident causes her to take a leave of absence from her Cirque du Soleil career, she stumbles into a quaint little town called Charming. She's walked right out of one nightmare and into another, however, as she finds herself left for dead on the highway outside of town, with her memory in pieces and her blood smeared across the highway.But the Sons are determined to find the people responsible for her horrific trauma. The guarded acrobat is shown a world unlike anything she's ever known, and before long Aibhlinn begins to see that an outlaw biker club might just be exactly where she belongs.(a semi non-canonical story taking place in 2014, after the conclusion of the TV series)
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	1. Opening Notes & Character Descriptions

# Author's Notes

This story takes place in 2014, after the end of the TV show. It also exists in an alternate universe to that of the show. In this setting, Juice remains alive. He has been forgiven by the club, and its current President (Chibs) has welcomed him back into the fold now that he has proven to be a loyal member. Any other deceased characters will remain as such.

**Current members of SAMCRO:**

  * Filip 'Chibs' Telford (President, 51 years old)
  * Alexander 'Tig' Trager (Vice President, assumed to be in his mid-50s)
  * Happy Lowman (Sgt. at Arms, 38 years old)
  * Juan Carlos 'Juice' Ortiz (assumed to be 30 years old)
  * Taddarius Orwell ‘T.O’ Cross (assumed to be ~50 years old)
  * George ‘Ratboy’ Skogstrom (assumed to be in his late 20s-early 30s)
  * Allesandro Montez (assumed to be ~35-40 years old)
  * Rane Quinn (assumed to be in his late 40s-early 50s)



**Other Characters:**

  * Aibhlinn 'Avie' O'Dwyer (age 30)
  * Jason 'Zephyr' Romanick (age 35)
  * Venus Van Dam (assumed to be in her mid to late 30s)



**Original Character Face Claims:**

  * Aibhlinn: Keri Russell, circa the late 1990s
  * Jason: Gaspard Ulliel, circa ~2015



**Additional Notes:**

\- Aibhlinn is a Gaelic name. It is pronounced "Ayve-leen."

\- This is a post-series story. However, **some plot changes will be made in retrospect.**

\- This story is considered semi-canonical. Some relationships/events will be altered/eliminated.

\- The original clubhouse (located at Teller-Morrow) is still owned and operated by the club. It was bought and re-built by Chibs and Tig.

\- **IMPORTANT:** Each chapter is labeled [Now] or [Then]. This means the chapter occured in 2014, when Aibhlinn was first discovered by the club [Then], or the chapter occured in 2015, eight or so months after Aibhlinn was discovered the club [Now].

**_*This story will contain graphic depictions of violence, assault, and sexual acts. Reader's discretion is advised.*_ **


	2. Unrequited & Unyielding [Now]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's eight months after the Sons' discovery of Avie on the highway outside of Charming, and tensions are high between the traumatized girl and the SoA President.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> "When the time we have now ends-  
> when the big hand goes 'round again-  
> can you still feel the butterflies?  
> Can you still hear the last goodnight?
> 
> And the mindless comfort grows  
> when I'm alone with my great plans.  
> And this is what she said gets her through it:  
> 'If I don't let myself be happy now, then when?  
> If not now, when?'"
> 
> \- "For Me This Is Heaven" by Jimmy Eat World

**-June 5th, 2015-**

Charming, California

**3:04 PM (Friday)**

Aibhlinn O’Dwyer picked at the label on her beer bottle, nervously peeling the sticker away from the glass as she sat at the bar. Her gaze jumped across the clubhouse to the group of MC members, huddled up close and deep in conversation by the pool table. The building was oddly quiet despite its usually heavy-traffic hour, the only noticeable sound the music playing through the bar’s speakers. The few occupants within were murmuring quietly amongst themselves, hushed and respectful of the impromptu meeting taking place in their midst.

She looked back at the club members again, this time locking eyes with Juice. He shot her a tiny, reassuring grin in response, easing some of the tension in her shoulders. She smiled back at him, pushing away her heavy fall of thick, blond curls and glancing at the other members.

Her gorgeous, tanned face became drawn and serious as she met a much harder, more grim expression, the eyes burning into her skin with their intensity. Chibs locked his gaze on her, his dark eyes like a paralytic agent that held her in place, freezing the blood in her veins. She gave a single nod at his subtle head bob, getting up and following his direction to the private office they used for “church” meetings.

He appeared a moment after her, shutting the door behind him and closing them into the private space. For a moment, he simply stared at her- taking her in with that knowing gaze, the one that stole her breath away and always made her feel as if he could see right through her.

"You weren't here yesterday." His gravelly voice was made harsher by the thick Scottish accent woven through it, the deep timbre arrowing straight to the heart of her. "Where did you go?"

Almost subconsciously, she reached for the pendant hanging around her neck. She swung the heavy silver heart lightly on its chain, back and forth. "I had to run an errand,” she said vaguely. “I made it home before ten."

Chibs raised one eyebrow at her, his gaze darkening. "Don't play vague with me, girl. You think I don't already know what time you rolled that piece of shit truck into your driveway?"

She looked at him levelly, her voice cool. "Glad to know you care enough to have me followed."

"For Christ's sake, Aibhlinn!" Chibs slammed a hand down on the wooden table, making her jump. "Don't turn this into a bloody display of my affections,” he snapped, tired of her attitude. “Just answer my damn question!"

Her gaze flitted to his, his dark eyes hard and flinty and locked onto her face. “I went to see Jason,” she said finally, hating the defensiveness in her own voice. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

Chibs exhaled angrily, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course I do,” he snapped. “What I didn’t know was whether or not you’d be lying to me about it.”

She crossed her own arms, her green eyes sparking angrily. “Contrary to your accusations lately, I’ve never once lied to you,” she snapped. “And I don’t plan to start now over something as stupid as visiting a friend.”

“You should’ve told me,” he hurled back. “If you wanted to see him, I’d have made it happen. God damn it, Aibhlinn.” He ripped his sunglasses out of the V of his leather kutte, throwing them down on the table and advancing towards her. “You know this is no time to be runnin’ around on your own,” he barked. “It isn’t safe.”

“I’m not an idiot,” she snapped, taking an involuntary step back at his approach, around the table. “I didn’t go unarmed.”

“You went _alone,”_ he growled, rushing closer and backing her against the far wall. “You know the rules, and you broke them.”

She scowled as he closed her in, glaring up at him. “What are you going to do, spank me?” she retorted.

A dangerous glimmer shone in his dark eyes, and she immediately regretted her bratty comeback. “Don’t think I’m opposed to the idea, lass.” He reached down, quick as lightning, and wrapped his fingers around one of her wrists, holding her in place. “Run off without one of us again, and I’ll throw you over my knee faster than you could blink.”

Her heart started to race, and she swallowed, blinking up at him like the deer in headlights he always made her into- helpless, frozen, exhilarated. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, thrown off by his face so close to hers. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”

Chibs looked down at her, his gaze intent. “Trouble is exactly what you are,” he murmured, dragging his eyes over her face as her breath quickened. “A big bloody bundle of it, wrapped in blonde curls.”

She nearly smiled. “You must like troubling blondes, then,” she replied. “To keep putting up with me.”

Her pulse beat fast and strong beneath his grip, racing as he tugged her closer, leaning down to bring his forehead to hers. “I like them too much,” he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek. “That’s the problem.”

Her skin felt like it was on fire, ready to go aflame. “It doesn’t have to be one.”

His eyes were burning into hers, so close she could see the facets of russet and amber in them. “Avie. . . .”

The office door suddenly flew open, and shuffling sounds filled the room behind the biker President's back.

“Everything okay in here?” Avie peeked over Chibs’ shoulder to see the rest of his club looking at them curiously, Tig’s voice ringing out in the enclosed space and nearly echoing.

“We’re fine.” Chibs’ voice was gruff, thrown over his shoulder without any indication that he would be releasing her wrist any time soon. “Just having a little conversation about following the rules.”

Avie flushed at Happy’s raised eyebrow. “I was just-”

“Save it, lass.” Chibs finally let her go, just long enough to reach for her chin, tipping it up with a crook of his finger. “You’ll have an escort until I feel like you can be trusted not to run off again,” he informed her.

“Again?” Tig shot her a disapproving look, and she frowned. “You know better than that, kid,” he admonished.

“It was just across town,” she argued, wondering for the life of her why she felt so immobilized with that solitary finger pressed under her jaw. “I only wanted to-”

“Save it,” Chibs repeated. “Juice is going to take you home now.”

“On it,” Juice replied quickly.

Avie scowled. “But I drove here.”

“Ratboy can bring your car by tonight,” Chibs said evenly.

Avie knew that giving in to the urge to stamp her foot would only be met with laughter. “Fine,” she shot back, jerking her chin back and out of Chibs’ grip. “Let’s go, babysitter,” she added to Juice, ignoring her grizzled handler.

“Aibhlinn.” Chibs grabbed for her waist, stopping her dead in front of the other club members and whirling her around. “As soon as you’re done being angry with me, you’ll realize this is for your own protection.”

“I can protect myself,” she snapped back.

“And I don’t know that?” His heated voice dripped with fury, and he snatched up her left arm, turning her forearm up towards the light and revealing a vivid pink scar, slashed nearly from elbow to wrist. “Do you think I can see this mark on your skin and not be reminded of that?” he demanded, as she turned her face angrily away, feeling embarrassed in front of the other men’s stares. “Do you think I can look at you and not see how strong you are?” He let go of her wrist, shoving at his hair as she seethed, crossing her arms. “Just because you _can_ protect yourself doesn’t mean you should have to,” he emphasized. “Now get your stubborn ass on the back of Juice’s bike before I cart you out there myself.”

With a last furious glare, she shoved her way through the men, Juice following after her with a raised eyebrow at the others.

Happy looked at Chibs in amusement as she stormed outside, Juice hot on her heels. “Why don’t you just slap an ownership tat on her back and be done with it?” he teased, as Tig and Quinn snickered. Ratboy just smiled, quiet as usual.

“She’s not my Old Lady,” Chibs snapped, snatching up his sunglasses and shoving his way past them, heading for the front door.

“Not yet,” Tig commented.

Quinn and Ratboy grinned, and the four remaining men trailed out after the Scotsman.

“Not ever,” Chibs retorted, pushing on his sunglasses and heading for his motorcycle across the Teller-Morrow yard. At the far end, he caught sight of Avie climbing onto the back of Juice’s bike. “She’s too feckin’ young and too damn innocent.” He watched Juice pass her a spare helmet, noted her pout as she pulled the full bucket piece over her head. He frowned, turning back to his own bike.

“You love her,” Happy mused, throwing his leg over his Harley and looking delighted when his old friend scowled.

“Christ in Heaven, if that’s what this is, then shoot me now, boys.”

As if rehearsed, Tig and Quinn reached for their weapons, playfully pointing them at Chibs as Happy and Ratboy laughed.

“Bang bang, brother,” Tig deadpanned, stowing his gun back in his waistband.

“You’re gone,” Quinn declared, holstering his gun under his arm. “It’s all over your face, man.”

“Or hers,” Tig added, smirking.

“Watch your bloody mouth before I jam my fist in it,” Chibs warned, and the crew guffawed.

“Exactly my point,” Happy said meaningfully, as they climbed onto their bikes. “You’re in love, brother.”

Chibs frowned as his brothers straddled their motorcycles, revving them up. “She’s nearly half my age.”

“And you’re an ancient fuck,” Happy yelled over the roar of engines. “She’s not a kid, man. She’s thirty.”

“Bit old for my tastes, honestly,” Tig tossed in, as Ratboy snorted.

Chibs revved his bike to life, strapping on his helmet as his brothers did the same. “Fucking Hell.”

* * *

**3:31 PM (Friday)**

Avie clung to Juice’s waist as he wove through the suburban streets, pouting to herself with her helmeted cheek pressed to the back of his shoulder. She knew the club was just being protective, but sometimes she felt as if they treated her like a dumb kid- like some kind of teenager with no sense, instead of a thirty-year-old woman who'd been taking care of herself since she was sixteen.

Juice approached a stop sign, slowing to let cross traffic go by. "You crying back there?" he yelled over the roar of the bike. "I can stop and get you some Kleenex."

Avie gave his waist a friendly squeeze. "Fuck off," she shouted half-heartedly. "I'm not the crying sort."

Juice chuckled as they pulled back out into traffic, nearing Avie's neat little neighborhood. He roared up her driveway, pulling in and stopping where her truck was usually parked. "You know he does this shit because he cares about you," he intoned, unclipping his helmet as Avie swung her leg off the bike, standing beside him.

"So do you," she countered, pulling off the spare helmet and passing it back to him. "But you don't have me tailed night and day like a fucking child."

Juice gave her his most charming grin, dropping the kickstand and hopping off the motorcycle. "How do you know I care about you?" he teased. "Maybe I'm just following orders."

Avie looked at him dryly. "That scar across your chest tells me all I need to know."

Juice considered, looking down at his black tee shirt and the place where he knew a red, angry-looking scar lay beneath it, slashed across his left pectoral. "Fair enough." He squinted at Avie in the fading sunlight, arms crossed. "You know I gotta go in and do a sweep, right? Chibs would kill me if I didn't."

Avie sighed. "I know."

Grinning, Juice offered her an elbow, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go then, Damsel."

Avie rolled her eyes, linking her arm with his. "Lead on, White Knight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments🗨 and kudos❤ are very much appreciated!


	3. Left For Dead [Then]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The MC discovers Avie, and a horror is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING*: This chapter contains graphic depictions of abuse, violence, and physical trauma. Reader's discretion is advised. Please check the tags.**
> 
> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> "Lookin' at me through your window;  
> boy, you had your eye out for a little.  
> 'I've cut you up and make you dinner-  
> you've reached the end, you are the winner.'
> 
> Rollin' down your tinted window,  
> drivin' next to me, real slow, he said,  
> 'Let me take you for a joyride.  
> I've got some candy for you inside.'
> 
> Little bit of poison in me;  
> I can taste your skin in my teeth.  
> 'I love it when I hear you breathing.  
> I hope to God you're never leaving.'
> 
> Runnin' through the parking lot,  
> he chased me and he wouldn't stop-  
> 'Tag, you're it; tag, tag, you're it.'  
> Grabbed my hand, pushed me down,  
> took the words right out my mouth-  
> 'Tag, you're it; tag, tag, you're it.'
> 
> Can anybody hear me when I'm hidden underground?  
> Can anybody hear me? Am I talking to myself?  
> Sayin', 'Tag, you're it; tag, tag, you're it.'  
> He's sayin', 'Tag, you're it' tag, tag, you're it.'"
> 
> \- "Tag, You're It" by Melanie Martinez

**-October 4th, 2014-**

_*Eight Months Prior*_

Charming, California

**12:03 AM (Saturday)**

The highway outside of Charming was empty, void of cars and flat open for miles, rolling on into the night. The road was lit only by the stars above and the headlight of their bikes, glowing golden beacons shining through the cloudless night. The roar of wind and machine was the only sound, whistling by like a biker’s lullaby. Chibs wanted it to last forever.

“Shit!” he cursed.

The SoA President slammed on his brakes, his bike- and his five brothers’ behind him- skidding wildly as he swerved to a stop.

“What the fuck, man?” Tig snapped, but Chibs was already off his bike and running, in a flat-out sprint down the deserted blacktop.

He’d seen her from a good mile back thanks to the clear, bright night and their headlights, hitting his brakes with only a fraction of that left to spare and legging it the remaining few yards to her unconscious form.

Sprawled across the center divider of the abandoned highway was a woman. She was unconscious, her body laying precisely halfway over the double yellow lines- as if on purpose, Chibs realized. To guarantee her serious injury or death, no matter which way traffic was coming from. The thought made his stomach turn.

“Jesus Christ.” He hit his knees on the pavement, gingerly reaching for the girl’s wrist. He heaved out a hard breath when he felt a pulse- a bit weak, but there, and steady.

“Holy shit, man!” Tig clapped a hand on his President’s shoulder, eyes wide. “Is she dead?”

Ratboy gulped nervously, his eyes darting up and down the eerily empty road.

“No,” Chibs barked. “But she’s hurt.”

Even from her face-down position, he could see bruises and scrapes, dried blood and scratches all over the exposed skin of her back. Her black tank top was riding up her torso, leaving her hips and back bare up to her ribs. Carefully, he slid an arm under her neck, gently rolling her over in his arms.

“Fucking Hell,” Happy rasped.

Bruises bloomed across her cheek and eye, a mess of purple and black that covered the left side of her face almost entirely, like some kind of demented 'Phantom of the Opera' mask. There was a split in her lip, a nasty-looking gash down her left arm, and what looked like a boot-print bruise across the front of her ribcage, half-hidden beneath her top.

Quinn’s face darkened as he took in her battered body. “Son of a bitch,” he seethed.

Chibs gently brushed the heavy blond hair back from her face, cursing under his breath. “Tig, do a sweep,” he barked. “Try to find some clues about what happened here. Go with him, Hap.”

Suddenly, the woman moaned, curling forward as if to sit up before gasping in pain. She dropped her head back against Chibs’ arm, spent of her energy. He winced sympathetically as his men headed off to inspect the area. “Can you hear me, darlin’?” he said softly. “What’s your name?”

But the woman merely whimpered, her left arm twitching as if to grab at his kutte before she cried out, dropping the limb on a spasm of pain.

“She needs a hospital,” Juice said nervously, studying a face that he could tell, even under the bruising, was classically beautiful.

“Look around you, boy,” Chibs snapped. “Clearly, someone wanted her dead. I’m taking her to no hospital when I don’t know who’s after hurting her. She’ll come with us, and I’ll patch her up.”

“How?” Quinn demanded. “She’s in no state to ride.”

“We’re not that far from TM,” his president replied, looking down at the girl as she shivered and whimpered in pain. “She’ll go on my bike, and you lads will be our escort. Nice and slow, now, and flank us. Shouldn’t be much traffic this time of night, if any.”

“Alright,” Juice agreed. “Let’s go.”

Tig and Happy came jogging back over, hands empty. “We found nothing, man,” Tig reported. “There’s nothing out here but her.”

Chibs cursed. “We’re going back to the garage,” he ordered. “Flank my bike. She’s riding with me. And call T.O and Montez,” he added. "Find out if they've heard anything about this."

The five men nodded, all but Juice jogging back to their motorcycles as Chibs looked down, turning back to their newest charge.

“Can you hear me, darlin’?” he murmured, gently brushing back what seemed to be- pardon his French- an absolute shitload of curly blond hair, yards of it, filthy with dirt and blood.

She whimpered pitifully, moaning in pain. “Yes,” she whispered, tears leaking down her face as four bikes roared to life. “Help me,” she begged, her voice rough with tears and abuse. “Please. Don't leave me here. My arm-”

“I’ve got ye.” Chibs staggered to his feet as Juice helped them up, the petite woman cradled in his arms. “We’re going to get you patched up, darlin’. Don’t worry.” He carefully straddled his bike with her in his arms, Juice steadying the machine by the handlebars as Chibs curled the slim girl closer to his chest. “I’m going to need your help, alright? You’ve got to be strong for me for just a little while, love. Then when we get back to headquarters, I’ll give you something for the pain. Alright?”

She nodded, tears still falling down her face as she clung to his kutte awkwardly with her good hand. “I can’t ride,” she wept. “My arm . . . And my ribs hurt,” she whimpered.

“We’ll make do,” he promised her. “Slow and easy, now. Smooth as a baby carriage. Juicy Boy, get the strap out of my bag, yeah?”

Nodding, the younger man reached behind them for the adjustable canvas band Chibs usually used to bundle down his knapsack. “Here, boss.”

“We’re going a bit MacGyver for this one, okay?” Chibs looked down at the whimpering woman, clinging to his leather jacket with wild eyes. “I’m going to get you sitting rear saddle, and I’ll strap you to me with this, since you can’t hold on yourself. I can’t hold you and steer the bike at the same time, love. Is that alright with you?” he questioned calmly. “We can have one of my brothers here go and fetch a truck if you’d rather wait and ride back that way. It’ll be about twenty minutes, but-”

“No!” she cried out, clinging to his shirt and looking up at him with pure terror shining in her green eyes. “Please, just get me out of here!”

She sounded completely panic-stricken, and Chibs stroked a hand over her hair, shushing her. “Okay, darlin’, alright. Let’s get you turned around, then.” With Juice’s help, they eased her into a straddle, sitting in Chibs’ lap with her legs draped over his and her face tucked into his neck. Gently as he could, Juice wrapped the strap around her upper back, just behind her shoulder blades, and secured it around his President’s torso as well, tying them together in a makeshift sort of seatbelt.

“This is some redneck shit,” he commented, cinching the strap just tight enough to keep them firmly entwined.

Chibs shot him a look. “Just get on your bike,” he ordered. “This is gonna be a very slow ride, so let’s get to it.”

The girl whimpered, her cheek pressed to the side of Chibs throat and her bad arm cradled protectively between their bodies. “Don’t drop me,” she pleaded.

Chibs chuckled, rubbing a hand over her back soothingly. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

He revved his bike to life, the roar causing her to jump, hissing in pain.

“Easy, love.” His voice in her ear was low and patient. “Hold onto me, now.”

She wrapped her good arm around his waist, fisting his jacket in her hand.

“There’s a good girl.” He gently eased onto the throttle as Happy and Tig pulled out in front of him, cruising at about 20 mph. He felt her eyelashes brush his neck as she squeezed her eyes closed, her grip on his shirt tightening as the remaining three fell into formation behind them. “You’re alright now, darlin’,” he said, just loud enough for her to hear. “We’ll take care of you.”

She turned her cheek, tucking her forehead against his neck. “Thank you,” she managed to get out, over the low roar of the wind. Her lips brushed his neck, and he absently nuzzled her hair with his cheek in comfort, his hands occupied on the handlebars.

“What’s your name?” he half-yelled over the rushing breeze.

She wiggled in discomfort, fitting them together more tightly. “Avie,” she grit out, panting now at the pain of their awkward sitting position.

Chibs leaned his head against her temple, pressing her face between his shoulder and cheek in an impromptu, hands-free hug. “I’ll take care of you, Avie.”

* * *

Getting her off the bike and inside the clubhouse tore at Chibs’ heart, as she was yelping and whimpering in pain, squirming in his arms and panting through the hurt. He carried her over to the pool table as Tig laid a mat out over the surface, covering the green felt.

“Here we go, love.” Chibs eased her down onto her back as she cried out, an echoing noise that made Juice wince in sympathy.

“Get me the first aid kit,” Chibs barked. “And some booze.”

Avie grimaced as the other men scattered, panting up at him as her version hazed. “Do you really need a drink right now?” she ground out through clenched teeth, and Chibs laughed, relieved she had the energy left to sass him.

“It’s for you, sweetheart,” he soothed her, brushing back her hair as the men bustled around, fetching towels and water and supplies. “It’ll take the edge off your pain quicker than the pills. They’ll take a while longer to kick in. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Nothing pharmaceutical,” she grit out through her teeth, gripping the mat beneath her tightly in her good hand.

Chibs raised his eyebrows questioningly, looking down at her.

“Bees,” she explained, closing her eyes as Juice rushed back over with Ratboy in tow. “I’m allergic to bees.”

“Here, boss.” Juice handed off the first aid kit as Ratboy piled clean towels and a huge pot of water by her head, before offering her a pillow from under his arm.

“Let me help you.” He gently slipped the cushion under her head as she gasped, the pain in her ribs exploding into a burning ball of heat at the movement.

“Mother _fucker!”_ she growled, gripping the mat beneath her harder.

“Here.” Quinn handed off the bottle of liquor to Tig before reaching down to slip her hand into his much more massive one, looking down at her kindly. “Squeeze away,” he assured her.

“Thanks,” she grit out, gripping his hand fiercely. “Can I have a drink now?” she implored.

Chibs grinned down at her as he set out supplies, piling gauze and tape and rubbing alcohol on the table. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Fetch her a straw,” he added to Tig. “I don’t want her to have to sit up again.”

“One bendy straw for the lady,” Tig said cheerfully, jogging over to the bar.

“No chasers, kid,” Happy added, grinning at her from the foot of the table and giving her ankle a friendly pat. “Think you can handle that?”

She whistled in a ragged breath through her teeth as Tig reappeared, holding a glass bottle with a neon pink bendy straw peeking cheerfully out of the neck. “Chasers are for pussies,” she grit out, as Juice let out an amused laugh.

“I like her,” he declared. “Can we keep her?”

“She’s not a feckin’ stray puppy,” Chibs snapped. "Find me some damn scissors."

Avie looked up at him wildly, squeezing the life out of Quinn’s hand. "For what?" she demanded.

Chibs ran one calloused hand over her head again, an oddly soothing gesture for what was essentially a stranger's caress. "I don't think you'll be sitting up any time soon and taking this shirt off yourself, love." He gave her a sympathetic look as she gaped. "Not to be blunt, and forgive me for the insensitivity, but you've got open wounds everywhere. Your shirt is stuck to them- I've got to get it off."

Avie turned her head away, looking up at Juice fearfully. "This is going to fucking hurt, isn't it?" she whispered.

The younger man winced back at her, wishing her left arm wasn't split open and matted with dirt and dried blood. He wished desperately that he could hold her hand, but he didn't want to hurt her. "I'll distract you," he promised, gripping her shoulder instead.

Avie glanced down at the straw as Tig held the bottle near her lips, her eyes apprehensive as she glanced up at the six men crowded in a circle around her. "Not that I'm not eternally grateful you didn't let me die on that highway," she began, squeezing Quinn’s hand tightly. "But does anybody here actually know what they're doing?"

Chibs smiled down at her, taking the scissors Ratboy had produced. "I was a medic in the army," he soothed her. "I can handle some bruising and stitches."

Avie whimpered as the cold steal of the shears brushed the skin of her hip. "I don't mean to be judgemental here," she added hurriedly, stopping Chibs in his cutting of her top, "because you seem like nice guys. But, uhm. . . . is it too late to ask for some modesty to be preserved?"

"You won't be losing your bra on my watch," Chibs assured her. "Or your jeans. Are your legs injured? Any cuts, scrapes?"

She shook her head. "Just bruises," she said quietly, as Happy frowned to himself. "They. . . they liked to kick," she whispered.

"Motherfucking-" Juice cut himself off, meeting Happy's knowing glare and reaching down to touch her hair in comfort- for her or himself, he wasn't sure.

"Then you'll have your modesty, best as we can do. Can you handle that?" Chibs went on. "Otherwise, I'll have to take you to a hospital, and-"

"No," Avie blurted, looking at him in a panic. "I want to stay with you guys." She looked around at their raised eyebrows, meeting Chibs' gaze pleadingly. "Please. Don't take me to a hospital. I'm fine with your way."

"Then you've got us," Chibs reassured her. "Now bottoms up, darlin', and take these." He handed Juice a couple of white pills, and she stared at them apprehensively. "Oxycontin," he elaborated. “For the pain.”

"Trust me," Ratboy said quietly, "you'll want them."

Swallowing hard, she nodded at Tig, taking the straw between her lips and gulping down several mouthfuls of the burning liquid through her teeth before she sputtered out a gasp, hissing as it jarred her bruised ribs. "Is that fucking 151?" she demanded, her voice raw with the liquid abuse. “Are you trying to Bacardi blitz me?”

Tig grinned. "Nice palate, girly. Thought we'd give ya something super effective."

She winced, looking at the pills in Juice’s hand forlornly. "Shit," she hissed, breathing in deeply. "Okay, fine. Give 'em here."

"Here you go." Juice tipped his palm to her lips, dropping the pills into her mouth as Tig brought the straw closer. She took it between her teeth and grimaced, gulping the liquid down without letting it touch her tongue and heaving in a wild breath, gripping Quinn’s hand tightly.

"Fuck me sideways _on a Tuesday!"_ she spat out, as Chibs bellowed with laughter.

"That's the way, Avie girl." He patted her head gently, looking at her with sympathy in his dark eyes. "You ready, sweetheart?"

She closed her eyes tight, squeezing Quinn’s hand as tightly as she could. "Distract me," she implored the men. "Please."

Juice brushed a hand over her wild curls, drawing her gaze up to him as Chibs began to carefully cut away at her shirt. “Is Avie your real name?” he asked calmly, stroking back her hair in a rhythmic way that pulled her focus above the stinging cuts and scrapes on her abdomen. “It’s cute.”

She grimaced as Chibs carefully pulled her top away from some of her more open wounds, the cotton sticking to the raw, ragged flesh. “No,” she said shortly, comforted by Quinn’s thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand. “It’s a nickname. My full name is Aibhlinn.”

“Ayve-leen,” Tigs mimicked her, sounding it out. “That’s pretty.”

“Irish,” Chibs commented quietly, soaking a cotton pad in rubbing alcohol and looking at the others meaningfully. “This will sting a bit, love,” he added. “Bare down, now.”

Avie yelped and thrashed on the table, desperate to grab onto something else, her injured left arm jerking helplessly. _“Fuck!”_ she cried out.

“Hold her still,” Chibs growled at the men as she whimpered, tears leaking out of her eyes. “I know it hurts, sweetheart,” he crooned, in a much more gentle voice, as Happy and Quinn placed hands on her legs to still her. “The rum and pills will kick in soon, and you’ll feel less. Keep talking, boys,” he added lowly.

Juice leaned into her line of sight again, smiling down at her as if they were old friends talking over a beer. “I’m Juan Carlos,” he said conversationally, twirling pieces of her hair around his finger and giving her his most charming grin. “But everyone calls me Juice.”

Avie smiled weakly, turning her face up towards him as he reached down, seemingly automatically, to brush a hand over her un-bruised cheek. “Hi,” she said weakly. “Nice to meet you.” She looked to his left, where Tig stood, holding the rum bottle and looking a bit withdrawn.

“Alexander,” he said shortly, as if he wasn’t used to the moniker. “But I go by Tig.”

Avie grit her teeth as Chibs carefully removed the now shredded bits of her tank top, leaving her nearly bare, clad in just a forest green sports bra. “Hi, Tig,” she murmured, her eyelashes fluttering weakly. Juice continued his rhythmic stroking and petting of her hair, a comfort she hadn’t realized would be so helpful.

Chibs looked down at her warmly, reaching for suture and needles. “Filip Telford,” he said grandly, giving her a kind look. “At your service. I’m known around here as Chibs.”

Avie’s gaze turned, if possible, even more distraught, and her gaze drifted over the scars bracketing his mouth. “You’re Scottish,” she said weakly, her mind beginning to haze as she put the clues together. “Is that where you were hurt?”

He reached for antibiotic cream, dispensing some onto a piece of cotton and looking down at her. “Ireland,” he said simply. “Many years ago. Don’t trouble yourself over it now, darlin’," he added, noting her sympathetic expression. "It’s old news.”

“They’re handsome,” she said, half-consciously, as Quinn smirked. “Your scars.”

Chibs smiled to himself, gently dabbing at her wounds as she winced, looking at Juice with a pained expression. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Happy glanced up at her from his position at her feet, his hands gripping her thigh to keep her still. “Happy Lowman,” he said, in his gruff, hoarse voice. “And yes, that’s my given name.”

Avie smiled then, looking just a bit out of it as the alcohol started to kick in. “You must have been a very smile-y baby,” she mused, leaning into Juice’s rhythmic touch.

“Or a dwarf,” Tig said dryly, as Quinn laughed.

“Rane Quinn,” he added, smiling at her as he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “I go by my last name.”

Avie’s eyelashes fluttered as Chibs started to dress her wounds, his fingers warm on her skin as he smoothed the bandages into place. “Hi, Quinn,” she muttered weakly. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, kid.”

Her gaze drifted to the smallest, youngest-looking member of the club, standing by Happy at her feet and looking nervous. “I’m George,” he said quietly. “They call me Ratboy, though.”

Avie grimaced as Chibs feathered his fingers over her ribs, searching for broken bones. “Hi,” she whispered. “Can I call you RB?”

Ratboy looked surprised, but he gave her a hesitant smile. “Okay,” he agreed. “Sure.”

“No breaks,” Chibs announced, removing his searching fingers as she huffed out a relieved breath. “Not that I can tell, at least, and there’s not much that can be done for them, even if they were. Sweetheart, I'm going to clean up your arm now,” he added. “It’s going to sting, I'm afraid.”

Avie nodded, her eyes hazy. “I'm ready.” She looked back up at Juice, trying to ignore the burning in her arm as Chibs swiped rubbing alcohol over it, cleaning off the dirt and blood. “I’m cold,” she said, a bit blankly.

“I know, love.” Chibs began preparing sutures, moving up between Tig and Juice to position himself by her elbow. “We’ll get you warmed up once we’re done.” He looked down at her kindly, curving his thumb gently over her cheek. “I need to stitch up your arm, love. It's pretty deep. I’ll put this topical numbing cream on it first, but it’ll still be a bit painful. Can you be strong for me?”

She nodded, her eyes becoming dilated and a bit vacant. “I feel funny,” she murmured, as Tig smirked.

“That’s the drugs, sweetheart,” he informed her.

She blinked up at him, a section of her curls still caught between Juice’s fingers as Chibs rubbed a cold cream onto the gash on her forearm. “I like drugs," she said at last.

Happy snorted out a laugh as Tig grinned down at the blonde. "Me too, kid."

"They kicked in pretty fast," Quinn commented.

Chibs looked down at Avie as he cleared the table, putting things away while the numbing cream took affect. "When's the last time you ate, darlin'?" he asked.

A shadow came over her face, and she closed her eyes. "I don't remember," she whispered. "Days."

Tig looked up at Chibs, eyebrows raised. Juice shot Happy an angry look, outraged on her behalf.

Chibs cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Let's get the blood off ye while that numbing agent kicks in," he murmured.

"I got it." Juice took up a clean towel, wetting it before gently dabbing at the dried blood on her lip and chin. "Avie?" he said quietly.

She looked at him as if through a fog, her expression distant and fearful. "Yeah?"

His fingertips brushed over her undamaged cheek, feather-light. "Do you know who did this to you?"

She started up at him, her eyes tearing over. "No," she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I never saw their faces." She squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Quinn’s hand for dear life. "Days," she whispered. "They kept me tied up for days."

"Jesus." Tig looked down at her with a frown creasing his face, all aloofness gone. "I'm so sorry, baby girl."

"We'll take care of it." Juice’s voice was gruff, and she blinked at him through her tears. "We'll find out who did this."

"Aye." Chibs leaned down and laid a soft hand over her forehead, warm and gentle. "And we'll take care of you."

"Do you have family?" Happy asked. "People looking for you?"

"No," she said blankly, her mind foggy. "My parents died when I was sixteen. I'm an only child. I'm not even from California," she blurted, looking puzzled. "I was just passing through."

"I'm going to start stitching you up, love," Chibs informed her gently. "Where were you headed?" he added, trying to distract her.

She closed her eyes tightly as the needle came closer, not wanting to watch. "Nowhere in particular," she said, through clenched teeth. "I was on vacation."

"Where are you from?" Ratboy asked quietly.

She hissed as the sutures slid through her skin, and Juice placed a hand on her head, offering comfort. "New York," she breathed, her eyelids quivering as she tried to block out the pain. "Originally. I'm a performer, though, so I've moved around a lot for work."

"You a dancer?" Tig questioned.

"Dancer, actor," Avie mumbled. "Acrobat."

"Acrobat?" Quinn exclaimed, laughing. "Seriously?"

She huffed out a laugh, grimacing as it shot pain through her ribs. "Seriously. I've traveled with Cirque du Soleil for a few years now."

"Well, how 'bout that?" She squinted open her eyes to see Chibs grinning down at her. "We've got ourselves a little circus performer, lads."

"That's crazy!" Juice’s voice drew her eyes up, and she smiled faintly at his excited grin. "Do you do stunts in midair and shit?"

"Like on the tightrope? Nah. I do aerial silks."

"I've seen a bit of that," Chibs murmured, his eyes on hers. "Dancing and such in midair, climbing up the fabric and rolling around. It's beautiful."

"No wonder you're so in shape," Tig commented, as the others glared at him. "What?" he demanded. "I'm not bein' a creep here, I'm serious! Her abs are tighter than mine."

"Appreciate it," she mumbled drowsily, as the men laughed. "Takes a hell of a lot of work to keep 'em that way."

"There we are, sweetheart. Good as new." Chibs leaned back, removing the needle and giving her a smile. "I need to clean out the wounds on your back now. Can you roll over?”

She gave him a scared look. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “My ribs. . . . .”

“I can hold her,” Juice offered. “She can lean on me, so she doesn’t have to lay face down.”

“Is that alright with you, darlin’?” Chibs asked, and after a moment’s hesitation, she looked up at Juice and nodded.

“Okay,” she assented. “Let’s do it.”

With the boys’ help, she was lifted off the table, being eased gently to her feet as Juice hopped up in her former spot, sitting on the pool table.

“Lean on me,” he instructed, as she winced, gripping Quinn and Happy’s hands tightly as they held her up. “I’m gonna hold you by your waist, okay? I can support some of your weight that way.”

“’Kay,” she grit out, teeth clenched tight. She hobbled forward, gingerly lifting her arms around his shoulders. “Oh God,” she gasped out, as her ribs twinged in protest. “Fuck, that hurts.”

Juice wrapped his arms carefully around her hips, pulling her up and fitting her against him so her center of gravity tipped forward. “I’ve got you.” She sagged a bit as the strain on her core muscles eased, and he felt her sigh brush over his shoulder. “Go ahead and relax,” he said softly. “I’ll hold you up.”

“Ready?” she heard Chibs ask from behind her, reaching for gauze and rubbing alcohol.

She shifted her head, turning her face to the left and laying her unbruised right cheek on Juice’s shoulder, sighing in relief. “Ready,” she murmured.

Despite the stinging pain on her back, Avie felt herself start to relax in Juice’s arms. His grip around her hips, fitting her up and against his torso, kept her from using her own weakened core muscles and instead relied on his arms, easing the pressure off her bruised ribs.

She went quiet as the Scotsman worked, her breathing becoming slow and even. After a few moments, Juice looked up at his President through her clouds of blond curls. “I think she’s asleep,” he said softly. “She’s gone all still and soft.”

“Good.” Quinn started clearing away bloody bits of cotton and stained towels as Ratboy rushed to help. “She needs to rest.”

“I think she was just at her limit,” Chibs murmured, smoothing a bit of medical tape over a gauze-covered wound. “Even without the liquid courage and pills. Poor little thing.”

“Who do you think did this to her?” Tig asked, studying her face as she dozed on Juice’s shoulder, her arms slack around him. “She’s real bad off, man.”

“I don’t know if we’ll find out,” Happy replied, throwing back a swig of the rum before screwing the lid on the bottle. “She said she didn’t see their faces.”

“Aye,” Chibs agreed, feeling gently along the back of her skull for bumps. “But maybe she remembers something about where she was kept, or what the bastards sounded like. We can ask her tomorrow.”

“Where’s she gonna sleep?” Tig wondered. “She’s not exactly in any shape to be transported.”

“She can have the couch in the office,” Chibs decided, untangling his rings from her curls. “Juicy Boy and I will stay with her.”

“Sure,” Juice agreed. “I make a great pillow.”

“That’s because you’re soft,” Happy intoned, smirking at the younger member.

“That’s her done, boys,” Chibs declared, repacking the first aid kit with unused supplies. “Juice, can you carry her without hurting her?”

“She’s totally out now. I got her.” Leaning back a bit to ease her farther up his torso, Juice moved one hand off her hip and pressed it to her upper back, right between her shoulder blades. Then he stood, scooping her off her feet and holding her to him like a five foot one baby, her legs dangling. He began the awkward shuffle to the back office, Chibs in his wake.

“I’m going outside to make some calls,” their President informed him as he held open the door for them. “See if any of our guys knows anything about this. I’ll be back afterwards. You stay with her,” he demanded. “Make sure she’s comfortable.”

“You got it, Boss Man.” Juice shuffled to the couch, deciding the best position for her battered left side- sore ribs, stitched up forearm, bruised face- was for her to lay on her right side. He slowly eased himself down onto the couch with her on top of him, his legs shaking as he tried to keep from jostling her. He finally made it to a sitting position, laying back and using both hands on her hips to slide her up and sideways. After a bit of careful wriggling, he got her onto her right side and draped across his chest.

She stirred a bit then, blinking up at him in confusion and wincing. “Where am I?” she asked sleepily, her body feeling pleasantly fuzzy and numb through the drugs and alcohol.

“The back office,” Juice replied. “I’m gonna stay with you tonight and be your body pillow. Are you comfortable?”

She nodded, feeling blessedly, completely out of it. “Yes, actually. The pressure’s off my ribs when I lay this way.”

“I figured as much,” Juice replied, reaching up to smooth back her hair.

“Am I going to sleep this way every night?” she wondered, her speech slightly slurred by the various inebriants.

“Maybe,” Juice agreed. “Until you heal up a bit.”

Avie yawned, absentmindedly wrapping her fingers around his bicep and blinking at the size of it. “Do you have a girlfriend?” she questioned drowsily. “She won’t like that very much.”

He smiled. “No, I don’t. Get some sleep, Avie. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice husky with trauma and sleep. She sighed, tucking her face into his neck and nuzzling into him, cuddly and trusting as a child in her relief at being found and the altered state of her intoxicated mind. “Juice?” she murmured.

He wrapped one arm around her hip, stroking her hair with the other. “Yeah?”

She closed her eyes, and he felt her eyelashes brush the column of his throat, feather soft. “Thank you,” she whispered. “All of you. For helping me.”

“Of course.”

* * *

Chibs finished his phone calls, turning up no new information. He flicked away his cigarette with an irritable sigh, going back into the building to relieve the rest of the crew. Once he'd sent the others home, he headed back to the office.

He found both of them asleep, Avie draped across Juice with her stitched up arm laying on his right shoulder. His club brother was snoring, his arms around the lithe blonde, with her face tucked against the side of his neck.

Chibs eased quietly into his desk chair, studying the bruised, battered woman sleeping on Juice’s chest. She was pale beneath the mask of bruising, her mouth full and even lush underneath the cut splitting through her bottom lip. He realized belated that she was shoeless, sporting only a pair of dirty black socks poking out the bottom of her jeans. He could remember her eyes, vivid green and wide as a doe's, locked onto his as he held her in the middle of that lone stretch of highway. He shuddered at the thought.

Rising to his feet, he shrugged off his leather jacket and crossed the room to drape it over her. She looked so small and exposed in her jeans and bra, he felt a bit sleazy just seeing it.

Without thinking, he leaned down to kiss the top of her head, brushing his lips over her fluffy blond hair. She slept on, undisturbed, as Chibs crossed back to his chair and sat, kicking his feet up onto the desk. It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments🗨 and kudos❤ are very much appreciated!


	4. The Recovery [Then]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avie is taken care of, and her newfound fears expose an unwillingness to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> "Cause I wanna touch you, baby;  
> I wanna feel you, too.  
> I wanna see the sunrise and your sins,  
> just me and you.
> 
> Light it up, on the run;  
> let's make love tonight.  
> Make it up; fall in love- try. . .
> 
> But you'll never be alone;  
> I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn.  
> I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn.  
> Baby, I'm right here.
> 
> I'll hold you when things go wrong;  
> I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn.  
> I'll be with you from dusk 'til dawn.  
> Baby, I'm right here."
> 
> \- "Dusk 'Til Dawn " by Zayn & Sia

**-October 5th, 2014-**

Charming, California

**4:42 PM (Sunday)**

It had been a long day for Avie. She’d been transported to Tig's house and introduced to his Old Lady, Venus, a statuesque brunette whose honey-sweet charm and Southern accent had immediately put the skittish acrobat at ease. After her days of horrific torture, not to mention the trauma of her near-death rescue, she was feeling tired and anxious and scared. She was still fuzzy on the details of her harrowing rescue the night before, her mind hazy from the drugs and booze and trauma. If she really tried, she could recall bits and pieces, fragments of the night that stood out more clearly than others: Juice’s fingers in her hair, stroking her head as he distracted her with questions; Quinn’s massive hand wrapped around hers, unflinching as she squeezed his fingers hard enough to bruise; Happy's palms on her thighs, holding her in place as she'd squirmed and cried. But mostly, she could remember Chibs’ warm hands against her skin, his endless patience and kindness with her as he'd literally swept her out of her Hell and into his clubhouse- a white knight clad in leather and denim, patching her wounds and stroking her hair.

The day had been stressful and tiring, both mentally and physically. She’d been carefully carried out to an SUV by Juice and Chibs, laid across the back seat and given more Oxycontin as they’d transported her to Tig’s house. Venus had met them at the door, directing them to carry her out to their hot tub and wincing in sympathy as Chibs had eased her whimpering form into the still water. “Don’t you worry, Miss Aibhlinn,” she’d declared, carting a bucket with soap and rags and medication out to the steaming Jacuzzi. “We’ll get rid of all these boys, and I’ll help clean you up and get you into something more comfortable.”

“You’re leaving?” she’d blurted, looking up at her two saviors in a panic. She didn't know much about how she was feeling- it was all a tangled, inebriant-veiled mess- but she was pretty damn sure she didn't want to be away from Chibs _or_ Juice, let alone both of them. They'd been the two to make her feel the safest, and despite her recent, horrific experience with strange men, she felt she could trust them. She’d trembled at the thought of being out of their sight.

They'd exchanged a loaded look, seeming to communicate without words, before Chibs had reached down to smooth back her damp hair. “As soon as you're cleaned up, I’ll be back to change your bandages,” he had reassured her. “I’ll be just inside, and so will Juicy Boy.” 

Avie had felt her mind starting to fuzz over as the pain pills kicked in, the soothing water easing her sore muscles even as her heart jumped with anxiety. “Okay,” she’d said quietly, looking between them nervously.

Chibs had given her a kind smile. “We’re not going anywhere. There aren’t any chemicals in that tub, are there?” he’d added to Venus. "They could irritate her wounds."

She’d shaken her head, her dark hair swinging. “I drained it this morning, right after Alexander called and told me about your poor lost little find. I rinsed it out myself and refilled it with clean water.” Then she’d waved a hand imperiously. “Go on now, boys, skedaddle.”

And so Avie had watched them disappear inside, her heart thrumming anxiously as they vanished from her sight. Venus had helped her out of her jeans and cut off her sports bra, sliding the scissors through the green spandex with a murmured apology. She’d gently washed her from head to toe, careful to avoid her bruised ribs and her stitched-up arm as she rubbed dirt and dried blood from Avie’s tender skin. Then she’d smoothed a cream onto her battered face, promising it would speed the healing of her bruises. “We’ll have this skin porcelain smooth again in no time.” She’d massaged a coconut-smelling conditioner into her hair, her fingers working gently through the yards of curls as Avie had drifted, too hazy and mixed up to speak.

Once she’d had her hair rinsed and tied neatly up on top of her head, Venus had disappeared inside, returning with a simple black string bikini. “I’m going to have Filip and Juan Carlos come out now and bring you inside, so let’s get you covered up.” She helped slide the bottoms over Avie’s legs and tie the top around her neck and back, sitting back with a satisfied smile before calling for the boys.

They’d eased her out of the water as Venus had draped a couple of thick, soft towels around her, warding off the chills. She'd directed them to a guest bedroom, which had a soft yellow duvet on the bed and several more towels already laid out on its surface. They’d settled Avie onto the mattress, and Venus had set to work patting her dry and smoothing various lotions and creams onto her scraped and bruised skin. Once her skin had absorbed the emollients, Venus had called for Chibs, who'd sat beside her and tended to each of her wounds with a patience and gentility she'd been surprised to receive from the grizzled biker.

Afterwards, Venus had brought her a soft black jersey skirt and a matching silky button-up blouse, easing them onto her with endless patience. “I’ll go out after this and get you some under things,” the brunette promised, buttoning her into the top. “What size are you?”

By the time Avie had been dressed, wrapped in a blanket, and settled onto the pretty white sofa, she was exhausted, nodding off and fading in and out for the rest of the day.

She woke up close to dinner time, her stomach rumbling loudly and her body throbbing all over. She glanced around fearfully, momentarily panicked as flashbacks flooded her mind. But then her eyes landed on Juice, staring down at his phone in an armchair beside her, and she released the breath she'd been holding.

He smiled as he spied her wide-eyed emerald gaze, sitting forward in his chair. "There you are," he said kindly. "How do you feel?"

She cleared her scratchy throat, suddenly feeling shy in her sober state. She pulled her blanket up higher, flushing scarlet as she remembered her lack of under garments. "Sore," she admitted quietly. "What time is it?"

He glanced back at his phone. "Nearly five." He remembered her admission from last night, looking up to give her a kind look. "You must be starving."

She nodded shyly. "I could eat."

He smiled as Chibs entered the room, shooting her a broad grin. "There's our little acrobat. How do you feel, love?"

She blushed at the nickname, gripping her blanket tightly. "Hungry," she admitted.

He crossed the room to stand beside her prone form, brushing a warm hand over her head in a natural gesture that brought back hazy memories of the night before. "What's your craving?" he questioned. "Anything at all. We'll order a feast."

Her stomach rumbled loudly enough to elicit a smile from Chibs, and her mouth began to water. "I've been dreaming of meat for days," she said quietly.

The message behind her admission infuriated the President to his core, but he smiled at the young blonde, hiding it well. "There's a barbecue takeaway in town," he offered. "How does that sound?"

"Please." The word burst out of her with a desperation that both embarrassed her and made her want to cry. "That sounds great," she amended weakly, dropping her gaze.

Chibs bit down on his rage at her mistreatment and simply nodded to Juice, who drifted off into the kitchen to place the order. He smiled at Avie, taking Juice's vacant chair. "It'll be here soon. They've a fast turn-around time." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small manilla packet. "Are you hurting?" he inquired. "I've some more painkillers here."

In that moment, with a body that was smarting and throbbing and still wanting to tremble with the memories of her trauma, she wanted an Oxy more than she wanted her next breath. "I'd appreciate it," she said gratefully.

He nodded. "Let's get you some water." He disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass filled with ice and topped with a bendy straw, so she wouldn't have to sit up. The consideration of such a thing made her want to both smile and cry, so she gave no reaction, simply watching him quietly.

He set the glass on the coffee table, tipping a pill into his palm. After a moment of considering the logistics, he dropped into a crouch beside her, holding out the Oxy with a smile. "Down the hatch, love."

He helped her get the pill onto her tongue from her vertical position, bringing the straw to her lips as she swallowed gratefully. He set the glass down, and when he turned back around there were tears shining in her emerald eyes.

“Hey, now, what’s this about?” He reached out his hand to wipe away a stray tear, and she jumped, crying out as her ribs twinged in protest.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, frantically swiping at her damp cheeks. “I’ll stop. I’ll stop.”

The terror in her voice broke his heart, and he held up both hands, attempting to calm her. “Whoa, dearie, you’ve nothing to be afraid of. I’d never hurt you.” He watched her chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of what she must have been through. “It’s alright, love,” he said soothingly, trying to appear non-threatening. “You can cry if you want to. I won’t tell you otherwise.”

She sniffled, trembling all over. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You’ve done nothing to apologize for.” Looking at her meaningfully, he slowly eased his hands down to his lap, laying them atop his thighs. “I know it’s hard for you to believe right now, but you’re safe with us, Aibhlinn. You've got free reign to do as you please, and you won't be punished for it. We want only to help you, love.”

The front door suddenly opened, and Venus was there with Juice in tow, carrying a shopping bag and looking over at Avie in dismay. “Oh sugar, what’s the matter?” she questioned sympathetically.

Avie looked panicked as they all stared at her, feeling trapped in place with her bruised ribs and her body so unwilling to respond to her commands- something she was completely not used to. “I’m sorry,” she blurted, cowering back against her pillows and looking at Chibs pleadingly. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything to me. I’m okay.”

Juice cocked his head as he studied her, empathy filling his heart. He knew what it looked like when a captive was trying to please her captors. He guessed- correctly- that she must’ve been punished every time she showed her terror to the sick fucks who had hurt her. “Avie,” he said softly, as Chibs looked sick and Venus pressed a hand to her heart. “It’s alright to be afraid.”

He watched her bottom lip begin to tremble, tears spilling forth as sobs starting to fall from her lips in quick, jerky gasps, her fear warring with the pain in her ribs. “I- I didn’t-” She couldn’t get the words out, and Juice couldn’t stand to see it.

He crossed to her without thinking, kneeling beside her and cradling her head in his arms, wishing she wasn’t so fragile so he could hold her. To his relief, she didn’t shrink away or scream. She clung to him, trembling as he stroked his hands over her hair, murmuring reassurances in her ear as Chibs clenched his jaw, feeling sick and sad.

Her tears eventually slowed, and she blinked over Juice’s shoulder to see Chibs gone and Venus perched in the armchair, patiently waiting for her terror to subside. “Are you alright, honey?” she asked sympathetically.

Avie nodded minutely, clinging to Juice as her panic ebbed away. “I’m sorry,” she said again, a quiet little refrain that she couldn't seem to control.

“You stop that,” Venus chided gently. “You’ve been through a terrible thing, honey. Nobody here is going to judge you for it.” When Avie gave a tiny nod, she continued. “Now. I’ve got some things for you here. Would you mind terribly if Juan Carlos gave us a moment of privacy so I could show them to you?”

Avie looked at Juice nervously, her eyes still glimmering with tears. “I’ll just be right outside,” he promised. “Yell for me, and I’ll come back.”

After a moment, she nodded, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before getting to his feet and heading for the front door. He shot her a smile before disappearing outside.

“Well, now.” Venus smiled brightly, pulling several brightly colored sports bras from the bag. “Let’s get you covered up.”

* * *

After choosing one of the soft, zip-front bras (and the matching panties) to wear, and storing the others in the guest bedroom, Venus helped her into the undergarments before calling the boys back inside.

Tig came through the front door first, carting bags of food. “Hey, kid,” he said to Avie, propped on pillows in a corner of the couch with a blanket over her legs. “Feeling okay?”

“I’m starving,” she replied honestly, the scent of the food overwhelming her.

The Vice President grinned. “I’ll ask Venus to fix you up a plate.”

Juice came through the door next, carting to-go trays of drinks and giving her a bolstering smile. “Hey, Avie. Thirsty?” When she nodded, he came closer, looking at the tops of the cups. “Let’s see. We’ve got Cokes, 7-Up, root beer, lemonade. Take your pick.”

Her mouth was watering, and she swallowed down on the urge to grab the tray and drink them all. “Root beer,” she said quickly. “Please.”

He held out the tray. “It’s that one there on the left, closest to you.”

She wriggled the drink out of the cupholder, plucking a straw off the tray. Juice smiled without saying anything as she twisted off the wrapper, stabbing the straw through the lid and taking a huge sip. She sighed in pleasure, bringing the cup back to her lips as Chibs and Happy came up behind Juice.

“How’s our favorite patient?" Chibs' voice was measured, a perfect balance between guarded and faux-bright. It tugged at Avie's heart to hear it. He'd been nothing but good to her, and she'd made him feel terrible, as if he'd hurt her.

She gave him a tremulous smile, shaky and full of a fearful hope so clear even Tig caught it, clear across the room. "Happy that you're back," she nearly whispered. It came out almost like a question, as if she'd grown accustomed to trying to figure out what to say to please people.

Though the thought enraged him, Chibs returned her small smile, wondering if she'd ever stop shaking in their presence. "I'm glad to see you too, love. Shall we eat?"

* * *

It was only a little after seven p.m. when Avie finished eating dinner, having been fed by hand, Venus ferrying forkfuls of pulled pork and brisket and mac n cheese to her, along with a non-stop stream of small talk. Between the relief at finally getting a decent meal, and a bath, and the effects of the painkiller, she was near to fading off again.

"Let's get you to the guest room," Venus intoned as her eyelids fluttered, the bikers going in and out of focus. "You're just about ready to nod off in your plate."

"Wait," Avie muttered, blinking up at the men as Venus cleared away her plate and cup. "I'm sleeping here?"

"You'll be comfortable here, darlin'." Chibs set aside his own plate, where he'd been brooding over the barbecued meat and picking at his potatoes, still disturbed at Avie's earlier reaction. "That old couch in the clubhouse isn't fit for you to be healing on."

"But. . ." Her eyes jumped between him and Juice, and he watched her hands tighten on her blanket, her knuckles turning white. "I thought. . ."

Juice looked at his President apprehensively, his brow drawn in concern. "Do you. . . ?" he began.

"I can stay." Chibs gave her a hesitant look, his eyes searching hers. "Do you want me to, love?"

Easy tears filled her eyes, but she nodded anyway, a pathetically tiny gesture. "Please," she whispered.

"Then I'll stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments🗨 and kudos❤ are very much appreciated!


	5. It Ain't Me, Babe [Now]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory shakes loose, and a certain President is sorely tempted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> "Go away from my window;  
> leave at your own chosen speed.  
> I'm not the one you want, babe-  
> I'm not the one you need.
> 
> You say you're lookin' for someone  
> who's never weak, but always strong;  
> to protect you and defend you,  
> whether you are right or wrong.  
> Someone to open each and every door. . .
> 
> But it ain't me, babe.  
> No, no, no- it ain't me, babe.  
> It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe."
> 
> \- "It Ain't Me, Babe" by Johnny Cash & June Carter

**-June 10th, 2015-**

_*Eight Months Later*_

Charming, California

**9:02 AM (Wednesday)**

Avie had just begun shampooing her hair when her cell phone started ringing. She cursed to herself, scrubbing her miles of hair as quickly as possible as the call faded off, six or so rings and then silence, as the phone went to voicemail. She started rinsing the bubbles from her hair as the phone started up again, ringing and echoing against the counter.

“Damn it.” She sighed irritably, knowing it was one of the Sons checking up on her and feeling frustrated that she couldn’t even finish her shower in peace. She knew if she didn’t pick up the call, Chibs would send someone over to her house, and they wouldn’t let up until they knew she was okay. She appreciated the gesture, but the inability to get even ten minutes to herself was starting to become tiresome.

She stuck her hand out of the curtain, hurriedly patting it dry on her towel before picking up her phone, gingerly accepting the call. “Hello?”

“Aibhlinn.” Chibs’ voice was gruff in her ear, sending an involuntary jolt through her. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home,” she said, confused. “Why?”

“You’re late.” He was so damn appealing, even when irritated, and Avie forced herself to focus.

“It’s Wednesday,” she reminded him. “I don’t come in until ten.”

She waited out his pause, knowing his irritation was really a cover for concern. “Why are you echoing?” he asked instead. “Your voice is bouncing all over the place.”

“I’m getting ready for work,” she said patiently. “You interrupted my shower.”

There was a heavy silence, and Avie flushed as she suddenly realized what she’d said. “You’re in the shower?” His voice was deeper, full of bass and a hunger that even the distance couldn’t hide.

She felt warm all over, tingling in places she was desperate for him to touch. “Yes,” she said softly.

She heard his sharp inhale, and her pulse went wild, beating hard in her neck and fingertips. “You shouldn’t tell a man things like that,” he said, his deep voice low. “It’ll give him ideas.”

The sudden exciting turn of the conversation thrilled her, filling her with hope that they were getting closer to the one thing she’d wanted for the past six months. “What kinds of ideas?”

She heard his slow inhale, the steadying breath he took to calm himself at her throaty question. “Ideas about what you look like in the shower.”

She grinned to herself at his half-teasing voice, feeling warmed down to her toes at the weak attempt at controlling himself. “I look like myself,” she said lightly, a mischievous grin on her face. “Except wet, and naked.”

“Aibhlinn.” His growl was delicious to her, rough and promising. “You’re not going to change my mind.”

Though they’d never explicitly discussed what, exactly, he’d made up his mind about, Avie desperately wanted to change it. “Are you sure?” she asked softly. “I could use some help washing my back,” she teased lightly.

“Jesus Christ, woman.” His groan made her knees weak, full of barely-there restraint. “You’re not the kind of girl to want a temporary romp,” he said roughly, and Avie clutched the phone tighter. “And I’ll not be giving you a rock and having you think it’s a diamond,” he said meaningfully. “I can’t give you forever, darlin’.”

“You don’t want to,” she said quietly. “There’s a difference.”

“That isn’t true,” he growled. “You think I’m stupid enough to be disinterested in a beautiful woman like you? Of course I want to. But I’m not right for you. You don’t want a-”

“If you call yourself an old man, I _will_ punch you when I get there,” she warned. “I’m not a kid, Filip. I’m not some idiot eighteen year old who thinks it’s fun and naughty to have a fling with a biker. I know what I want- who I want,” she corrected herself. “And it’s you.”

He was silent for a beat, and her heart raced with her admission. “Just because we want something doesn’t make it right, love.” His voice was bleak, rough with sadness and full of weariness. “I’m nearly twice your age. You’ve so much left to do. I won’t let you give it all up just to end up an old man’s caretaker.”

Avie scowled at the phone. “I’m finishing my shower now,” she announced, eyes narrowed haughtily. “Wet, and naked, and thinking of you.” His rough groan satisfied her, so she continued. “And I’m punching you when I get there, _old man.”_

* * *

**9:57 AM**

Chibs was having a Hell of a morning.

He'd woken up in a half-crazed panic, sure he'd heard Aibhlinn crying for him. It had taken him stumbling down the hallway to his empty guest bedroom to remember that it was June. Avie had moved into her own rental home in April, protesting the club the whole way as they worked out a deal with a contact of theirs in real estate: they'd gotten Avie free rent in exchange for her caretaking of the house, a massive five-bedroom ranch style up in the hills, which had vast gardens and a pool with attached spa that all needed tending. It gave her privacy, security- including a top of the line alarm system with cameras- and most of all, purpose: something to do to keep herself busy, and her mind off her fears.

She’d spent the majority of her first six months in Charming camping out in Chibs' spare room and slowly coming to terms with what had happened to her. She'd experienced horrific nightmares and near-daily panic attacks, afraid to be away from the club President- and Juicy Boy- any time they left the safety of their homes or the clubhouse. In February, she'd finally caved to their gentle cajoling and agreed to go to therapy for her PTSD. Chibs and Tig had agreed to pay for it, ignoring her insistence that it was too much, and so she spent Thursday and Sunday evenings at her therapist's office in town, slowly figuring out how to live again.

Avie had been living in her house in the hills for two months now, but Chibs still awoke with the echoes of her screams and cries in his ears, gut-wrenching in their intensity. He'd been her shadow, playing bodyguard to ward off a demon whose face he didn't know, for half a year. He still wasn't used to her being gone during the nights, and he'd often found himself making an excuse to call or text the young acrobat, needing assurance that she was alright.

_She was more than alright this morning._

Avie’s naughty game of 'picture me in the shower' had stunned him nearly as much as it had driven him mad. Their relationship was a tentative one, a balancing act much like her career, one that relied upon both parties walking the line between keeping their feelings secret and letting the other in. They’d been a constant team for those six months, the nervous blonde always in his shadow and looking to him to protect her, not only from physical threats but from emotional harm. He'd had to be open with her, at least a bit, letting her in and showing her that trust was possible between herself and a man- that she could, one day, let herself be with someone again, without fear.

He wanted it for her more than he wanted his next breath. He just wasn’t sure he was the one she should be trying to open herself up to.

He watched her pull into the TM lot in the burgundy Chevy Silverado Tig and Happy had helped her pick out, looking small behind the wheel of the massive ride. She parked across from the clubhouse, hopping out with her work bag in tow. She looked content and peaceful as she strode across the lot, pretty as a picture in her white tee shirt and denim shortalls, her long blonde curls pulled up in a high ponytail. She smiled at Chibs as she approached, her emerald gaze hidden behind her white-framed sunglasses.

“Did you want it on the nose or in the gut?” she questioned, grinning as his brow furrowed in confusion. “That punch I owe you,” she elaborated.

He flashed her a crooked smile, hooking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I’d save it for now, love,” he advised her. “Might come a day when you really think I deserve a good decking.”

“Good thinking.” She patted her bag, meeting his gaze questioningly. “Ready for me to start?” she inquired.

Chibs gestured inside, holding the door of the clubhouse open for her. “Everything is on the table," he caved, stepping aside. "But Aibhlinn, you really don’t have to-”

“Now don’t start this again,” she admonished him, striding over to the pile of clothes on one of the bar tables. “I told you, I like working. It makes me feel like I’m contributing. Like I’m evening the score a bit.”

“There’s no score to be evened,” Chibs protested, watching her pick up a dress shirt and study the tear in the pocket. “You don't owe us anything, Aibhlinn."

"That's a load of shit, and you know it." She gave him a stern look, opening her bag and pulling out her sewing kit. "You've done a lot for me, and to downplay it insults us both. Let me do the damn laundry, Filip. If I can't at least mend and clean your clothes, I'm a poor excuse of a houseguest."

"You're not a houseguest anymore, love," he reminded her, gently. "You're simply a friend."

She smiled at that, threading a needle. "And I'm grateful for that. But I can still help out my friends, same as you've all helped me."

Chibs sighed. He knew there were bloodstained clothes in that pile, and even though Avie seemed to be used to it by now, he hated that she had to see it- that she would even be the one to soak it and scrub it and wash away the crime. It was just another reminder that involving her in his life would only tarnish hers.

"What is this?" she wondered aloud. She held up a tee shirt of Happy's, sporting a big purple stain near the collar.

Chibs shrugged. "Dunno."

"It's makeup," Happy announced, emerging from the back hallway and striding into the room.

Avie raised her eyebrows. "Eyeshadow or lipstick?" she wanted to know.

Happy grinned. "Both."

Avie smirked. "To each his own," she allowed, reaching into her bag for a spray bottle and a scrub brush. "I hope it was at least her color."

"It wasn't," Hap informed her, going behind the bar to pull a beer for himself. "But she had insanely nice t-"

"Message received." Grimacing, Avie set to work pulling out her various homemade pastes and scrubs, lining them up on the table beside her sewing kit.

Chibs pulled out a chair next to her, looking at the little bottles and tubs in bemusement. "Where did you learn to make all of this?" he wondered aloud. "Those magic sprays of yours get out blood and grass stains better than anything we've ever tried."

"Without making our clothes all stiff and itchy," Hap added, sipping from his beer mug.

Avie smiled, pulling on a single latex glove and opening a small container. She scooped out a small amount of a paste, working it into the purple stain as she talked. "When you work for the circus, there's a million different ways you can ruin an outfit. Sweat, makeup, talcum powder, bits of costume pieces that rip or get stuck to your leotard, like rings and feathers. I had to learn to mend my outfits, and clean them, or I'd be buying a new one after every show."

“Your bosses wouldn’t pay for that?” Chibs asked.

Avie shrugged, pulling off the latex glove and reaching for a flannel shirt of Chibs’, examining the ripped chest pocket. “They would, but every business has a budget. I’d rather they spent their money on the shows.”

“Do you miss it?” Happy slid into a seat at the table, looking at her curiously. “It must have been a pretty exciting life.”

Chibs watched that always-on-call guard fall into place behind her eyes, and she shifted uncomfortably, reaching for blue thread to match his shirt. “Too exciting, sometimes,” she said at last. At their curious looks, she sighed, threading the needle- an excuse, Chibs knew, to keep her hands busy and her mind off whatever was troubling her. “I wasn’t just on vacation,” she admitted. “When I came to California. I’d actually taken a sabbatical.” She started sewing up the loose-hanging pocket, her fingers quick and practiced. “You get injured a lot in my profession,” she started, her eyes on her work as the two men listened intently. “It’s just a part of the job. You pull muscles, you build up calluses, you freeze your ass off in ice baths.” She mirrored the men’s smiles briefly, dropping her eyes back to her work as she continued. “But there are other injuries that happen, serious ones, that make it such a risky career move. People fall off the tightrope, they slip out of their silks, they miss their landing on the Wheel of Death. We take every precaution, of course, with mats and harnesses and hours of practice. But sometimes you just can’t account for human error.”

Chibs looked at her intently, following his instinct and reaching out to rub a hand over her shoulder. “What happened, love?”

She gave him a grateful look before heaving a sigh. “I was in rehearsal one day,” she said softly, her eyes faraway as she recalled the memory that had effectively ended her circus career. “Practicing my routine for the next show. I’d gotten careless,” she confessed. “We’d been rehearsing for hours, and I’d nailed my part perfectly. I was cocky, and I stopped focusing.” She bit her lip, warmed by Chibs’ hand on her shoulder. “I fell,” she said quietly. “I slipped out of my foot lock, and I only managed to grab the silks for a moment, just enough to slow my momentum. I hit the ground after a thirty foot drop.”

“Christ,” Happy murmured. “Were you hurt?”

Avie closed her eyes, her hands stilling in her work. “I landed on the mat, thankfully. But it was still a huge drop. I hit the ground shoulder-first, and I broke my collarbone. And dislocated my ankle,” she added, her gaze unfocused and distant. “When I slipped my foot lock. But it wasn’t so much the injuries. It was the fall. I’ve never been scared of heights in my life,” she murmured. “But. . . . I am now.” She shook her head, looking up at them with fear in her eyes. “I felt like I couldn’t trust myself anymore, not way up in the air. And now, after. . . .” She shuddered, looking back at her Scottish savior with that same terrified look he’d seen on the highway outside of Charming, that dark October night. “After what those animals did to me, I just. . . I don’t really know if I’ll ever trust again,” she said quietly.

At Chibs’ worried look, she reached a hand up to pat his, still heavy and warm on her shoulder. “Present company excluded,” she reassured him, giving Happy a small smile. “You and your brothers saved my life, and you’ve been nothing but kind to me. I know I’m safe with you.”

“Good.” Chibs brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her chilled fingertips. “Your safety is important to all of us.”

It was like a trigger phrase; like she'd been a sleeper agent, drifting along in her new life as an associate of the SoA, and the simple stringing together of those handful of words had flipped a switch, flooding her brain with memories.

_"You're important to us." That awful, white rubber mask, floating in front of her as her vision blurred. "They like you. You've got to stay awake, Sweet Pea. They won't like it if you're asleep."_

_She whimpered, her cheek throbbing and stinging. "Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."_

_She sensed the rage before she saw it, cowering back as his hand came down on her face. Hot blood spurred from her dry, cracked lip, spilling down her chin. “No! You’re mine, damn it. You’re staying right here with me.” His vicious growl had taken on that faux-sweet, crooning quality that made Avie feel sick to her stomach, icy dread crawling through her veins. “You’re mine, Sweet Pea. We were meant to be together.”_

_She shrieked as he reached out to caress her face, knowing what was coming. “No!” She scurried back as far as her chains would allow, her back scraping the rough concrete wall. “Please, stop!”_

_His eyes through the slits of his mask were dark and hard, flinty as he advanced on her. “You’ll learn to love it here,” he promised. “One day, you’ll stop fighting me.”_

“Aibhlinn.”

She bolted to her feet, Chibs’ shirt falling to the floor and her heart hammering in her chest. “I-” She stumbled over her chair, nearly tripping in her haste to get away. “I need to-”

“Avie, what’s wrong?” Happy’s voice was faraway, echoing in her ears as Chibs’ worried face wavered in and out of her vision. “Are you okay?”

She staggered towards the door, her feet tangling around themselves as she tried to navigate around the bar tables. Before she could process what was happening, she was head over heels, the hard floor coming towards her face quicker than she could process it.

“Avie!” She curled up, braced for impact, and suddenly there was a wall of white, cushioning her blow.

She let out a choked sob, feeling her pulse jump wildly as Happy grunted, landing hard on his hip and steadying her in his arms.

“Aibhlinn!” Chibs knelt beside them, following his instinct and keeping his hands off her. “Are you alright, darlin’?”

Happy sucked in a hard breath, reclaiming the wind that had been knocked from his lungs. “You okay?” he questioned the trembling blonde, wincing in pain.

“Stop,” she whimpered, her fearful expression locked onto his face. “I need air. Let go!”

“Aibhlinn,” Chibs said softly. “No one is holding you, love.”

She swung her wild-eyed gaze to the President, shaking all over and cowering against Happy’s torso. She sucked in a shaky breath, her pulse beginning to slow as the fear of the memory faded, her senses coming back to the present. She looked down at Happy’s guarded expression, his eyes watching her warily. Overwhelmed, she felt the tears burn her eyes as they spilled over, dripping down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It’s alright, darlin.’ Everything is fine.” Though he was nearly mad with the want to, he kept his hands to himself, putting on his most soothing face. “You’re alright. Can you stand?”

She sniffled, looking down at Happy with dismay and shame in her eyes. “Oh, Hap. I’m so sorry.” She studied him in distress, her finger flitting over him, feather-light, as if she wasn’t sure what to check for. “Did I hurt you?”

He eased himself into a sitting position, leaning back on his palm and shaking his head. “I’m fine,” he assured her. “Just lost my breath for a minute.”

“I’m so sorry.” She’d slid off his lap as he’d sat up, and she looked up at him from her spot on the floor before him with misery on her face. “I just. . . . panicked.”

“It’s okay, Avie. Really.” Because he felt he could, Hap reached out to muss her hair, much like a big brother would. “Couldn’t let you knock any teeth loose from that pretty smile.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you,” she said fervently. “For- well, everything. But for catching me, this time.”

“What are friends for?” Happy eased himself to his feet as Chibs’ held out a cautious hand to Avie, relieved when she took it without hesitation.

She got to her feet, finding herself very close to the biker President. He looked down at her with concern in his dark eyes, and she realized just how much she wanted to burrow into his arms, hiding there until the fear had passed. So she did.

Her eyes filling, she threw her arms around his torso, hiding her face in the crook of his neck as he wrapped her up just as tightly. She trembled in his grasp as he cradled her head protectively in his palm, tucking her against his chest. “It’s alright,” he murmured, meeting Happy’s serious gaze over her shoulder. “You’re safe, love. We’ve got ye.”

She curled her fingers around the lapels of his kutte, looking up at him with teary eyes. “I remembered,” she whispered, as he stroked a hand down her damp cheek. “You said something, and I remembered. Something that happened in that awful basement.”

Though his instinct was to start hitting something, anything, to get the rage out, he brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Well then, you’ll just be telling me what it was, whenever you’re ready, and I’ll be sure never to say it again.”

Because she was more sure than ever that her instincts were right- that he was the one she wanted to trust, to open herself to wholeheartedly, when the time was right- she dropped her head to his shoulder, resting her cheek there and sliding a hand beneath his kutte, pressing it firmly over the beating of his heart. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Because everything in him ached to scoop her up- to hold her close and hide her away from the world, protect her from every wayward shadow- he curved a hand over her jaw, holding her tightly to him. “You’ll never be hurt again, Aibhlinn. I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos❤ and comments🗨 are very much appreciated!


	6. There's No Accounting (For Taste, That Is) [Then]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avie is recovering, and new emotions come to the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🎧👇song of the chapter👇🎧
> 
> "You're stuck on me and my laughing eyes.  
> I can't pretend, though I try to hide - I like you.  
> I like you.
> 
> I think I felt my heart skip a beat;  
> I'm standing here, and I can hardly breathe - you got me.  
> You got me.
> 
> The way you take my hand is just so sweet,  
> and that crooked smile of yours-  
> it knocks me off my feet.
> 
> Oh, I just can't get enough.  
> How much do I need to fill me up?  
> It feels so good; it must be love.  
> It's everything that I've been dreaming of.
> 
> I give up; I give in; I let go; let's begin.  
> 'Cause no matter what I do,  
> oh, my heart is filled with you."
> 
> \- "You Got Me", by Colbie Caillat
> 
>  *****note***:** If you're having trouble keeping up with the timeline, check out the first chapter (Opening Notes & Character Descriptions) for some updated tips on keeping track of the story.

**-November 1st, 2014-**

_*Seven Months Prior*_

Charming, California

**9:26 PM (Saturday)**

Aibhlinn was surprisingly peaceful in sleep. The worry lines that marred her forehead and the corners of her eyes smoothed away as she rested, her bruised face going soft and unguarded as she slept. Her hands were unclenched on top of the rich chocolate duvet, her hair spilling down over her shoulder as she sighed in her sleep.

Chibs studied her from the doorway, propped against the doorframe with a drink in his hand and his eyes intent on her face. She was still beneath the thick duvet, the blankets tucked around her to ward off the early winter chill. Her breathing was slow and even, her eyes darting to and fro beneath her lids and her curls bouncing with every little twitch.

She was so damn pretty it made Chibs want to cry.

He wondered, for the hundredth time in a month, who could take someone so beautiful, so unique and sweet and trusting, and take their fists and feet to her face, her ribs, her arms? It enraged the President as much as it made him ache for Avie.

He hadn't bought her insistent story that she’d just been out here on vacation when she’d been attacked- her eyes had shifted too much, her expression becoming too frightened to explain a simple jaunt around the country. He found himself wondering what she'd been running from in the first place, that had landed her in California and at her attacker's doorstep. He couldn't imagine being on the run from something and ending up caught in a trap even more horrifying than the one you'd been running from. It didn't seem fair, like a cruel twist of fate, Murphy's Law at its harshest.

A sudden movement brought him out of his thoughts, and he focused on the sleeping blonde as she started to twitch in distress, her face now pulled into a mask of worry, even in sleep. She began to whimper as Chibs crossed to the bed, setting down his drink and reaching for her.

"Aibhlinn. Wake up, darlin'." He cautiously touched her arm, cursing to himself as she jerked away, a little cry slipping from her lips as her eyes flew open in fear. "Christ, love, I'm sorry. You were having a nightmare. It's alright now."

He watched her lips tremble, her eyes unfocused and distant, as if she wasn't fully awake. "They keep coming back," she whispered, locked in her own terrible memories. "They won't go away." Tears spilled down her cheeks, tearing at his heartstrings. "They're hurting me."

"They're not here, love. You're safe." Because he trusted his instinct, and he'd seen Avie's comfort lately at having himself and Juice around, he sat beside her hip, taking her hand in his. "You're at my house, remember?” It always took a while for her to come back to herself, to shake herself free of the nightmare’s clutches. “You're not alone," he said softly.

She blinked furiously, her gaze blurred with tears and frantic as she clutched at him, gripping his fingers with hers. "Don't leave me," she begged, shameless in the dark and bolstered by the privacy they had here, in his guest bedroom. "They won't go away."

"Oh, darlin'." Abandoning caution, he shucked off his boots, scooting up onto the bed to sit beside her. He brought his arm around her shoulders, settling in and leaning back against the headboard. "I'll not be going anywhere, not when you've a need for me."

She surprised him by leaning her head against his torso, dropping it to his side and taking in a measured breath. "I don’t know what to do," she whimpered quietly, her eyes still wet with tears. "You've had to cater to me like a child, and I don't-"

"Hush, dearie." He stroked his fingertips over her shoulder, a rhythmic gesture that had her heavy eyes fluttering closed. "I'll not hear any fuss over helping a lady in need. You just rest. I'll keep watch."

Because she wanted to cry again, she simply nodded, burrowing her face against his shirt. "Okay."

He made himself comfortable, gently stroking her arm as she drifted back into dreams. "I'll be here when you wake."

* * *

**-November 2nd, 2014-**

**7:08 AM (Sunday)**

When Avie stirred from her sleep, she was blessedly, pleasantly warm. She blinked slowly, her mind sluggish in sleep and still hazy from the wearing-off narcotics in her system. There was a sturdy, solid mass of heat to her right, firm but yielding. She realized she was reclining partially atop it, her head on something firm and warm that moved slightly. She blinked harder, and a wall of navy blue flannel suddenly came into focus.

Her conscious mind suddenly snapped into place, and everything made sense as she looked up. She had fallen asleep on Chibs’ bicep, his arm tucked beneath her neck and wrapped around her skull to cradle her head protectively to his chest. His warm torso was mere inches from her face, and he had curled up on his side to face her as he slept. His head was angled down towards hers, as if he’d fallen asleep studying her. Though she was flat on her back, the easiest position to sleep in with her bruised ribs, the club President had tucked her into his shadow, shielding her from sight and hovering over her protectively. She realized belatedly that his free arm was draped over her waist, reassuringly warm and solid.

Avie had thought, after her ordeal, that she would shy away from physical contact. Every touch she’d received in those handful of days of captivity had been traumatic- violence and abuse and assault, nothing but terror and fear and pain. She was sure, in that dark, damp place, that she’d never want to be touched again.

She had been shocked to awaken on that highway, cradled in the arms of a biker and suddenly desperate for him to never leave her side again. She should’ve been terrified; she should’ve screamed, or had flashbacks, or felt some kind of fear.

But she hadn’t. She didn’t realize until it was happening that she’d been starved for a gentle touch, for something kind and helpful, that was given without any expectation of something in return. She’d felt safe with the MC immediately- she’d held Quinn’s hand without hesitation, remained still and unafraid beneath Happy’s necessary grip on her legs, even drifted off to sleep in Juice’s arms without fear or worry. She supposed the drugs could possibly have influenced her decision, but she was pretty sure she would’ve felt safe with them regardless. She could admit, to herself, that they were exactly the kind of people she had hoped and prayed would somehow, magically, come rescue her from her Hell. She felt safe with them because she knew if her attackers somehow found her, she would be protected, and the MC would take care of the monsters once and for all.

Now, she stirred a bit, carefully reaching her hand up to touch his arm. “Filip,” she said softly. “Hey. Wake up.”

The biker blinked to attention immediately, his arm tightening around her instinctively and his head whipping around. “What?” he said at once. “What is it? Are you alright?”

She touched his arm to calm him, looking up at him patiently. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I just woke up.”

“Oh. Right.” He glanced down at her hesitantly, his dark eyes full of questions. He seemed to realize, belatedly, how intertwined they’d become. He looked down at his arms, wound around her protectively, and took note of how close they were, his body draped possessively over hers. He gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, love. You were having nightmares on and off all night. And you kept saying you were cold, and the damn heater’s been acting up, and I didn’t want your ribs to hurt from shivering, so I-”

“Filip. It’s okay.” She patted the arm across her waist reassuringly, his other still tucked snugly beneath her head. “You did keep me warm. And I slept alright, there at the end.” She looked up at him seriously, fighting back the nerves to say what she needed to say. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For staying with me. For. . . .” she looked down at herself, wrapped in his protective embrace. “For everything.”

He seemed lost for words, unsure what to say in a situation like this. “Of course,” he said at last. “Any time.”

She knew he felt uncomfortable with praise, and she smiled to herself as he brushed it off, easing her out of his embrace and getting briskly to his feet, stretching a bit. “Do ye want some coffee while I get ready, darlin’? I need to shower before we head into work.”

“Yes, please,” she replied gratefully.

He smiled at her, shoving back his shaggy hair. “Come on, dearie, up you get.” He eased her into a sitting position, tucking pillows around her and propping her up against the headboard. “You jus’ watch a bit of TV while I get your drink.”

She smiled at him, accepting the remote from him before he padded down the hall to fetch her coffee. He thought about her as he started the coffee maker, feeling exceptionally proud of her progress. She was healing a bit more everyday, and she’d finally reached the point of being able to shower alone, as long as he’d helped her into the tub first. The tough little acrobat was determined to get her mobility back, and he was sure she was close to capturing it, with how hard she’d been working.

He poured her coffee into the mug she preferred, black and glossy with a massive white Reaper wrapped around the outside. He reached into the fridge and plucked out the cream he’d taken to stocking, adding it to the mug with a shake of his head. He thought it made coffee taste like over-rich sweets, like he’d dropped a load of cream custard into his morning pick-me-up. Still, his young houseguest liked her coffee that way, and so he dutifully poured some into her cup, smiling to himself. He reached into a cabinet for a second mug for himself, the rich bitterness solid black and steadying as he swallowed it down, heading back down the hall.

“Here we are.” He set the mug beside her on the nightstand, turning the handle towards her. “Drink up and get your wits about ye. I’ll get washed and dressed and come back to help ye into your own bath.” He smiled at her as she glanced up at him, all tousled hair and faded, nearly-gone bruises across her pale face. “Venus and Juicy Boy want to come over to take you to get some new clothes today,” he informed her. “Think you’re up for it?”

She appreciated, as always, the fact that he asked, and never pushed or insisted. “I’ll be okay,” she said nervously, as timidly honest as she’d become accustomed to being with Chibs. “As long as Juice is there.”

“He’ll stay with you all day,” he reassured her. “I shouldn’t need him at the clubhouse.”

She smiled then, reaching gingerly for her coffee. “Then it sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Avie hated the looks she got in public, the way people stared at her half-healed bruises and eyed her curiously as she limped along, her ribs still aching enough to make long treks difficult. She was grateful for Juice, her eternal shadow, as he slipped his arm around her waist, tipping her center of gravity towards him and supporting her weight.

“Ignore them,” he muttered to her, as Venus flitted ahead of them, gathering blouses and skirts in Avie’s preferred colors. “We’re almost done here, anyway.”

Avie leaned more heavily against him as her ribs twinged, wincing up at him worriedly. “What if they think you hit me or something?” she whispered, taking his proffered hand gratefully and easing her footing so her balance shifted. “I don’t want people to think-”

“I don’t care what they think,” he interrupted her smoothly, guiding her forward with her hand in his and his arm around her waist, like some kind of bizarre prom date- or senior citizen. “I’m here for you.”

She wanted to cry, but she knew it would hurt. “Thank you,” she said instead, her voice soft.

He smiled down at her, at-ease and happy in his role as her support system. “Anytime, Blondie.” He gave her a conspiratorial look, contemplating her expression. “Are you hungry? We can get something to eat after this.”

As always, she felt that Juice knew her better, sometimes, than she knew herself. “I’d love that,” she said gratefully. “I’m starved.”

“Juan Carlos,” Venus called, gesturing to a dressing room, “escort Miss Aibhlinn over here so I can help her try these on.” When a middle-aged woman stared, eyeing Juice distastefully as he helped her across the store, Venus cleared her throat, loudly. “Ahem! Can I help you with something, Ma’am?” When the woman looked away, angry and flushed, Venus sniffed. “That’s just what I thought. Come here, sugar, and try these on,” she continued, holding up a few different soft-looking dresses and skirts. “They should be just what you need.”

Avie let Juice help her into a changing room, squeezing his hand briefly in thanks. He returned the gesture warmly before he dipped back out, giving her an encouraging look as Venus snapped the curtains closed. She was relieved to see his boots didn’t waver a millimeter, his feet planted firmly right outside the changing room.

“Now,” Venus said happily, hangers clanging as she held up a handful of dresses, “which one first?”

* * *

After a tiring- but enjoyable- thirty minutes of being helped in and out of clothes by Venus, Avie had selected a dozen pretty dresses, a handful of soft, practical maxi skirts, and a decent amount of basic tops, most with buttons down the front to help her dress herself. She’d been unable to resist wearing one of her new dresses out of the store, a baby-soft white maxi dress with sunflowers splashed all over it. It had been so long since she’d felt feminine, and pretty, and the material was so soft against her skin that she hadn’t been able to stop stroking her fingers over it.

She’d fretted at the register, but Venus had waved her worries away as Juice slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him as she sighed quietly in relief. “Don’t you worry about a thing,” the statuesque brunette instructed her. “Filip and I are taking care of this bill, and we’ll hear no more about it.”

Because they could see Avie was tired, and nervous after the rude woman in the clothing store, they agreed to pick up lunch for everyone and enjoy it back at the clubhouse, rather than sit down at a restaurant. Juice sat in the car with her as Venus strolled into Vito’s Pizzeria, heels clicking merrily on the pavement.

She was dozing off by the time her fairy godmother returned, still tired from taking a not-inconsiderate dose of painkillers to keep the throbbing in her ribs at bay. She felt her eyes slip shut as Venus opened the rear door of the SUV, passing Juice a stack of boxes and bags before rounding the car and hopping behind the wheel. Avie was out before they hit the first traffic light, her hair spilling across her face as she slept soundly in the reclined passenger seat.

* * *

“Aibhlinn. Wake up, darlin’.” She blinked drowsily in the midday sun, raising a hand over her eyes as Chibs’ face came into focus. He was studying her intently, standing in the open passenger door with a slight smile on his face as she gathered her senses about her. “You’ve got a new dress, I see,” he added lightly.

She smiled sleepily, brushing back her curtain of curls. “A few,” she admitted, wincing as she tried to sit up. “They’re in the trunk.”

“They’re in my office,” he corrected, reaching out to help her. “Juicy Boy just brought them in, along with lunch. Are you hungry, love?”

She let him half-lift, half-assist her out of the car, setting her on her feet gingerly. “Starving,” she confessed, looking up at him bashfully. “And thank you for my new clothes,” she added softly. “I really appreciate it, Filip.”

He couldn’t stop the gentle stroke of his hand over her hair, or the rush he felt when she leaned into him, allowing him to help her inside. “It was nothing,” he assured her. “And how could I not when you look so beautiful in your new dress?”

She colored prettily as he helped her into the clubhouse, saying nothing as he eased her onto a barstool.

“I’ll fetch ye a plate,” he offered, shrugging out of his leather jacket and swinging it over the back of the chair beside her. “What’s your poison?”

She smiled at that, taking the icy-cold stein of beer Happy offered her with a nod of thanks. “Just pepperoni is fine. And some of that salad, if you don’t mind.”

Chibs wrinkled his nose. “It’s not what I would’ve picked, but alright, darlin’.”

She laughed a bit, a hand drifting to her ribs automatically as the motion caused a twinge of pain. “What would you have picked?” she questioned.

Chibs shrugged. “Something with a bit more spice.”

Avie smiled. “To each their own.”

She watched him wander over to the spread of food at the far end of the bar, her eyes tracing over him as he filled a plate for her. She watched him laugh and joke with Tig and Venus, who were wrapped around each other and chattering happily. As she studied the pair of them, her eyes drifting over to her Scottish savior, a bolt of something new, and exciting, and strange, hit her square in the chest, so sharply she had to catch her breath. As Tig pulled Venus in and planted a smacking kiss on her lips, the guarded blonde wondered why she suddenly felt as if there was something missing in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments🗨 and kudos❤ are very much appreciated!


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